A.N: I know I should be writing my other stories, but this just came to my mind today when one bad thing happened and I just had to get it out, so here it is. Please be aware that this is full of different kind of symbols for Robin´s life; this is actually a summary for it.
Edit: Does it work now? It didn´t work when I published it earlier…
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Falling Casablanca
She was going to be a beautiful Casablanca, just like her mother. Their beauty made all the other flowers on the field envy them. As the mother Casablanca was removed to another place, the small Casablanca that had yet to bloom was left alone. It was driven from the field to the woods where it´s only happiness was the small rays of sun that sometimes came through the trees.
Not long after the Casablanca had bloomed the field of flowers was overtaken by weeds, causing the mother Casablanca to fade away along with other flowers.
Only the little Casablanca was left.
She ran and ran, tripping on a branch and soon she was falling. Falling and falling in the deep pit called life. Sometimes she grabbed the branches or they grabbed her and slowed her falling, but in the end they snapped under her weight or got rid of her, not wanting to snap.
The Casablanca fell and fell, for twenty long years she fell. There were branches she grabbed and some that grabbed her, but in the end she always fell, sometimes even on purpose. But then, out of nowhere, appeared a branch tangled in straws. She clung to it, refusing to let go despite the way other branches tried to push her away. Slowly, one by one, the said branches wrapped themselves around her, wanting to keep her and to never let go. Slowly she started to wish the same, believing that she could live among these branches.
And then it happened: the weeds had found their way to the pit and caught up with the Casablanca. The Casablanca could have jumped, saving herself and sacrificing the branches and letting them snap like she had always done, but she didn´t.
These branches were too valuable for her to sacrifice.
The Casablanca allowed the weeds to start suffocating her, slowly draining the life from her.
But the branches would have none of that. With the lead of the one covered in straws they fought for the Casablanca, putting them in danger of fading away just for her. She hesitated, but in the end allowed the branches to take her back.
When the branch cowered in straw and the other branches finally got the Casablanca back they helped her to climb from the pit. Casablanca was happy to see the sun again and wanted to thank the branches, but when she turned around they were gone, flowers in their place.
They were flowers.
They had always been flowers, but for so long time the Casablanca had only seen weeds and branches that she had forgotten what flowers looked like, she had forgotten how being cared about felt like.
But now the Casablanca had returned to the fields, more beautiful than ever.
A.N: So in the end the Casablanca found her way back to the fields, yet the unnamed flower is still falling… please review.